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I know where the treasure is. Can YOU help me assemble a marketably diverse team of adventurers to go do the thing that was in the map or letter I got from my dying grampa or whatever?

This is me at a UN conference on the right to look like a total douche on Facebook. Ahmadinejad took this one on his Android; he's actually an OK guy after a little karaoke and a bull session about what we really want out of life.

This might look like I'm drinking while working in the studio, but in fact I used a stunt liver. Went to do stand up an hour later. Probably did that joke about Schrödinger's Cat. OR DID I?

These were all my attempts to get some Dorian Gray business going, but the paintings keep on getting cooler and cooler while I stay just as lame.

They removed the cool pic of me rolling my face on a scanner, saying "keep on rollin'" in a delicious double-entente . I guess it counts as "artwork" but enjoying the simple things in life, like this ice cream, is the REAL ART.

This is what I might look like to esteemed Dog-American Marmaduke. Do you see the cat agenda behind that smirk, mocking his inability to see color? The system is failing our dogs.

Smokey & The Bandit was a fanfic about an alternate universe where I was forever disguised as Burt Reynolds and am also a girl for some reason. But in a way, don't we *all* have a long way to go, and a short time to get there?

My friend and I were trapped in a photo booth after the Final Halloween, him as Harpo Marx. He never broke character, staying silent even as I consumed his very bones. Sometimes when I see a pratfall, I can still hear that horn's lonesome 'awooga'...

Awesome! The End. [CREDITS]...[EASTER EGG]: Hints of "Jon's Profile II," with the first appearance of the Landlord, though they're making him grittier and more realistic than in the comics. Samuel L. Jackson plays the upstairs neighbor.